


Stanchez Writing Prompts

by Wastelandic



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Drug Use, M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wastelandic/pseuds/Wastelandic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of writing prompts from my tumblr brought to you all by my lovely followers.<br/>None of the chapters relate to one another, this is just to make it easier to keep track of how many I write.<br/>Some may be longer than others and some may be more graphic. I'll put warnings at the beginning of each chapter along with a link to the tumblr copy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If you die, I’m gonna kill you.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr link ; http://wastelandic.tumblr.com/post/133893262946/if-you-die-im-gonna-kill-you-honestly
> 
> Content warnings; swears, blood, a bit of fighting.

There was silence as his body hit the floor. Stan Pines froze, hand gripping the collar of a drunkard’s shirt, about ready to slam his fist into his face, as he turned to see Rick’s body crumpled on the ground. 

“Rick!” He cried out, throwing the drunk against the alleyway wall, and shoved one of his friends out of the way. Sliding to his knees, he turned Rick onto his back to see the man grinning weakly, blood dripping from his mouth. “Fuck, dude fuck.”

“H-heh. Yo-you could…say th-th-that again.” Rick laughed lightly, wincing as he did so. He picked his hand up from his stomach to reveal the blood seeping through his grey muscle tank, staining his hand. 

A stab wound… Stan recognized it. “Hold on, man. I’ll get you help.” Gently, he let Rick lay back on the ground. Standing and turning to face the couple of drunk’s from the bar. They stood stunned, one’s eyes bouncing from person to person, another who held the bloodied switchblade held his mouth agape.

“I-I-I…” The man dropped the blade as Stan’s fist made contact with the side of his face, a snapping sound bouncing around them. Stan stood, breathing heavy, gritting his teeth and growling. The man’s friends bolted down the alley, crying apologizes and cursing as they ran.

Stanley turned back to his bleeding friend and gingerly picked him up. “Hold tight, buddy. I’ll get you home.” He starting jogging towards his car parked in the bar’s lot. Rick grimacing and gripping a hand tightly onto the bigger man’s shirt.

It’s almost 15 minutes later that they make it back to their run down apartment, bottles of beer and other miscellaneous liquor laying about the floor. Stan stomped into the kitchen, using one arm to shove the paper plates and plastic silverware onto the floor with a soft clutter, laying Rick on the table before turning the kitchen light on. He stumbled about the kitchen, going through cabinets trying to find their medical kit.

“Wh-where the fuck is it…” Stan muttered before remembering to check under the sink and there it was. He quickly turns back to Rick and shoves the shirt up, looking at Rick who’s breath is getting shallow. He begins to panic when one of Rick’s eyelid’s flutters open slightly and a small grin shows on his pale face before he passes out. “SHIT.” Moving quickly, Stan begins to stop the blood that’s falling from the wound and does his best to patch him up. It’s a long half hour before Stan finds tears falling down his cheeks, as he checks Rick’s breathing to find it’s stopped. It’s then that he begins to apply CPR but in this state, he’s having trouble concentrating and remembering the techniques. 

“If you die on me Sanchez,” He mutters, wiping his cheek with a bloodied hand. “I swear to god I’m going to fucking kill you…”

Losing his own breath and hope, Stan steadies himself into one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the body of his partner. He never really noticed until now how grey, small and frail Rick’s body was. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe the malnutrition from their lack of cash…but it didn’t look good. Maybe he should call someone, call an ambulance…no that wasn’t a good idea. They were already wanted by the cops for some thefts and cons, getting any kind of ambulance here would bring more unwanted problems. There was Ford but…Stan had lost contact with him long ago and he wouldn’t care enough to help him and his friend out anyway.

Miserable, Stan leaned forward, his hands in his face, ignoring the rusty smell of blood on his hands. There was a very slim chance of Rick surviving after losing all that blood, plus it wasn’t like they had a very healthy life style either. What was Stan going to do now? 

A groan comes from the table and Stan looks to see Rick’s begun coughing, a pained look from his face as he turns his head from side to side. Stan stares in disbelief, there’s no fucking way he should be alive right now. Quickly, he goes to the sink to pour water into a cup and go to Rick to shush and calm him.

“F-f-fuck, yo-yo-you taste like…” A hard cough from Rick causes him to grimace and grip onto Stan’s arm tightly. It’s a few seconds before he continues speaking. “B-b-bad.”

“You’re welcome…” Is all Stan is able to manage, a small smile on his face as he gently pulls Rick into his arms.


	2. I'm with you. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr link; http://wastelandic.tumblr.com/post/134034756056/hey-im-with-you-okay-always-with-stanchez
> 
> content warnings; more swears, alcohol use, some feels.  
> alt universe - high school.

“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s bein’ crazy!” Stan watches as a frowning Ford closes the curtains to their room. Reaching his hand towards the window, he calls for his twin. “St-stanford? Don’t leave me hangin’! H-high six?” Only to get the door slammed in his face by his father. Stanley stands for a moment, grasping the situation before becoming furious. “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you!” He’s yelling, doing everything he can to sound threatening and to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll make millions and you’ll rue the day you turned your back on me!”

With that, he grabs his duffel bag and tosses it angrily in his car before driving off in a rage. He doesn’t look back, he shouldn’t look back, there’s no point to look back. Feeling weak, he peaks into his driver’s side window to see no one is chasing after him. Sadly, he looks at the steering wheel. What was he going to do now? No job, no home, no family…his best friend and brother has just written him off. He was dead to his family now over a dumb accident.

Stanley drove on for hours around the town, there was nothing much to Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey and not many places one could really go. He drove to the one place he found comfort in, the towns namesake, the beach. He knew it was illegal to be at the beach after sundown, but right now, where else was he going to go?  
Of course, he knew in the back of his mind he did have another place to go but how pathetic would he feel? How pathetic would he feel going to a friend’s house to beg for them to let him crash on the couch for the night? Just the thought made him feel like garbage. Instead, he trudged against the sand towards the boat he and his brother had been working on their entire childhood, the Stan-o-War.

Laying on the small deck, he watched the stars, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next. Nothing was really coming to him and slowly he was realizing how incredibly fucked he was. He sighed and covered his eyes with his arms. Maybe if he was lucky, a cop would walk the beach tonight, find him and give him a cell to sleep in so that he at the very least had a roof over his head.

Of course, that was before he heard the shuffling of sand and realized that someone was headed towards the boat. “Shit.” He cursed under his breath and waited, waited for the voice of an angry officer to yell at him and take him away or something along those lines. It wasn’t until the footsteps stopped that he began to relax. That is…

A kick to the boat caused Stanley to jump up and turn to see a familiar face. “Th-thought I’d find ya here.” The teen with light blue slicked back hair burped and stepped into the boat. He held up a small cooler in his hand and pulled out a beer bottle. “Wa-wanna brewski?”

“Rick? What the heck are ya doin’ here?” Stan caught his breath. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“W-well, ugh, p-put your sh-shit back in y-your asshole. God.” He shoved the bottle into Stan’s hands and sat on the deck next to him, pulling out a bottle and popping the cap off for himself. “Je-jesus I for-forget how fu-fuckin’ small this g-goddamn boat is.”

Stan cracks a small smile, sighing and yanking the cap off his own bottle, taking a drink and letting the bitter liquor slide down his throat. “Well it was a lot bigger when Stanford and I were little…” His smile disappears and he leans his head back. “Stanford…fuck…”

“What’d that prick br-brother of you do n-n-now?” Rick burped again, leaning over onto Stanley. “N-n-need me to ki-kick his scrawny ass?”

“Heh. You’re one to talk, bein’ less scrawny than him.” Stan shook his head, gently putting his one arm around Rick, allowing him to lean the back of his head onto his chest. “Nah he did…nothing. I fucked up…Fucked up bad. And now I ain’t got no home, no family that gives two shits about me and I’mma ‘bout to sleep in this tiny ass boat tonight.”

Rick groaned. “I-I-I dunno wh-what you did but fuck sleeping in this damn boat. Y-you come stay w-with me. Like hell I’m lettin’ ya sleep out here.” Rick sat up suddenly. “B-besides. Fuck this lame booty ass town. Le-let’s fuckin’ blow th-this joint.”

“And go where, Rick? With what? Our good looks?” Stan shook his head. “Look I’ll stay at your place tonight but I gotta figure out what the hell I’m gonna do about the future.”

“F-fuck the future man! It’s b-bound to end in a bl-bloody g-goddamn mess.” Rick took a long drink from his bottle and sighed. “Y-you know I’ve told you shit about the f-future…it ain’t p-pretty, man.”

“I-I know…” Sure Stan’s listened to Rick ramble about his future predictions and some of them were scary, but Rick was known to go on and on about crazy things that he knows from an unknown source. I gotta guy he would say. “But Rick, I want to prove myself. I-I wanna make money! Show ‘em all I can be something I’m not. Fuck I wanna take this boat out and sail into the horizon and do all that treasure huntin’ I say I wanna do.”

“Then fuckin’ do it.” Rick laughs and takes a hold of Stan’s hand. “Wh-what’s st-stoppin’ ya?”

Stanley paused at that, staring out onto the black ocean. The stars bounced off the moving water, glistening, beckoning towards the teenager. He felt himself relax, intertwining his fingers with Rick. “You say you…have a guy…yanno that tells you about the future.” He pauses, swallowing hard and taking a breath. “S-so you…yanno…ask him about my future? Y-yanno…one where you go off and adventure with me?”

Rick’s quiet for a while, finishing off his bottle and staring off in space on his own, contemplating what to say. Stan does his best not to look at him, feeling his hands get all sweaty and cussing in his head. He knew this wasn’t a forever thing, everything ends sooner or later. Rick and Stan forever, 100 years, wasn’t an actual thing that was going to last forever, but god fucking dammit if Stan wasn’t going to try to keep this strange guy in his life.

Of course, he has been wrong before. Stan bit his lip and took his hand away from Rick, standing and grabbing his bag. “S-sorry I’m just…I-I’m gonna go see i-if Carla will let me stay with her…” As he begun to step out of the boat, Rick jumped up and grabbed his arm.

“Nuh-uh. N-no you ain’t. Y-you fu-fuckin’ stay r-r-r-right here.” Rick put his hands on Stanley’s face and pushed his lips onto the others. For a few moments, they stayed like that, Stanley wrapping his arms around the smaller framed teen, kissing, only coming apart shortly for air. Rick eventually was the one to pull away, showing his stupid toothy grin. “H-hey, I-I-I’m with you, okay? Always.”


	3. Please, don't leave!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr link; http://wastelandic.tumblr.com/post/134128743281/omg-omg-3-with-stanchez
> 
> content warnings; feels.  
> this one is super short. also takes place before the twins arrive in Gravity Falls.

“Please… Don’t leave.” Was the last thing Rick had heard Stan mumble in his sleep. As much as it left a lump in his throat, Rick knew he had to go. Slowly, he had lifted himself from the bed and began to get dressed, his boxers, brown pants, light blue shirt, not quite sure where he left his lab coat. He began to search the messy bedroom for it, hearing Stan continue to talk in his sleep.

“Ford…” Rick stopped in his tracks, looking at the sleeping man who had muttered his twin brother’s name. He must have been dreaming about him, watching as the once peacefully sleeping man began to toss and turn in his sleep. Perhaps a nightmare? Rick sighed, there wasn’t anything he could possibly do right now as he’s trying to leave. 

It had been a mistake to come to Gravity Falls in the middle of the night, drunk but Rick had wanted just another night with his ex and finding him just as drunk and distraught wasn’t what he had intended to find but it worked. They had one more fling before the summer really started. Rick knew he would be spending more time with his grandson Morty and Stan had mentioned briefly something about his great niece and nephew coming to stay. Rick could only laugh to himself about how these two fucked up men had to watch young, impressionable children. What a joke.  
Finding his lab coat and picking his portal gun up from the floor, he pressed in the coordinates for his home. Pointing it at the wall, Rick fired the trigger creating a light green portal appear. He started towards the portal when a groan from the bed caused him to look back once again.

“Wh…Rick?” Stan was sitting up in bed, looking incredibly disheveled. “Are you…where are you going?”

“T-to get ice cream.” Rick couldn’t tell him he was leaving and never coming back. Though it would be obvious to the other man once he walked through the portal and that would be it.   
“But you’re…you’re coming back, right?” Stan cracked a small, hopeful smile.

Rick frowned, taking a few minutes and watching Stan’s smile slowly fall in the soft green glow from the portal. He needed to do this. He needed to protect the other important person in his life. Rick knew things would be going to shit and if he could at least protect one person, he would. The lanky man exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, Stan. This will…probably be the last time you hear from me. So…” I’m sorry. Rick couldn’t bring himself to say anything else and right as Stan opened his mouth to say anything, he jumped through the portal and closed it but not without something falling through with him.

Rick, now in his own home, bent down to pick up the small mug that had fallen through with him. It was crummy, used, with a big question mark on it that was the symbol for the Mystery Shack. He couldn’t help but sigh and smile slightly. At least he would have this.


	4. I wish I could hate you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr link; http://wastelandic.tumblr.com/post/134223760361/36-stanchez
> 
> content warnings; drug use, swears  
> alt universe - young adults doing bad things like crime and stealing drugs

“Run, you i-idiot, run!” Rick shoved Stan forward, causing the bigger man to stumble a bit before breaking into a sprint. Gunshots were fired as they ran down the street, bullets buzzing past their heads, just narrowly missing them. A wide, toothy grin spread over Rick’s face as he clutched the small black bag to his chest and began laughing. Stan struggled to pull his keys from his jacket’s inside pocket as they ran, turning a corner and finally pulling them out as they made it to their rundown chevy.

“Fuck, fuck…” Stan muttered, fumbling with the keys as he tried to get the door to the car opened as quickly as possible. Finally unlocking it and jumping in, he leaned over and popped the passenger side door open, letting Rick in before starting the car and peeling away from the sidewalk just as their pursuers rounded the corner. 

The sound of gunshots and yelling slowly died out the farther the two traveled. It wasn’t long until they reached their safe house, neither of them speaking until they arrived. Stan parked the car and angrily got out, slamming the car door.

“What the fuck, Rick?!” He grabbed the thinner man by the collar of his shirt as he stepped out of the car, still clutching the bag. “I thought this was supposed to be an easy deal? Why the fuck were they shooting at us?”

Rick just held a stupid grin on his face and chuckled. “I miiiiight have just…brought the wrong wallet.”

“So you didn’t bring the money?! We fuckin’ just stole…what an eight ball-”

“Two.” 

Stan’s face paled. “Two…eight balls…we have…seven grams of coke…” His grip loosened and Rick wiggled out of his grasp, his feet back on the ground and headed inside.

“C-c’mon man! We’re planning o-on leaving to-tomorrow anyway!” He laughed, practically skipping into the run down house. Stan followed, dragging his feet, a sense of dread filling his entire being. 

Inside the house, Rick had gone around and lit the candles and lanterns, illuminating the dark room they slept in with a dim glow. He made himself comfortable at the somewhat stable table and pulled out a razor from his wallet. The man began to prepare a line for himself and one for his partner, who slowly sank into the chair next to him.

“We’re so going to get murdered…” Stan muttered, not even watching Rick get their stolen stash ready for them.

“Just an-another town to cross off on y-your cross country map!” Rick laughed, reaching over and patting the other’s cheeks. Stan glared, clearly not amused. Rick rolled his eyes before leaning over to snort the line of blow he had laid out. “Oh just do a line and r-r-relax.” 

“Yeah yeah…That’s what you always say.”

“A-a-and I’m always right!” Rick sniffed, rubbing underneath his nose and leaning back into his chair. “Th-that’s why you love me, r-right?” 

“Heh. I wish I could hate you.” Stan chuckled and shook his head as he leaned down to sniff his own line. Within a few seconds, he felt his heart beat quicken and gripped the edge of the table, allowing the time to let the drug kick in. After a minute, a warmth spread through his body and he could feel a tingling sensation starting in his finger tips. The two shared a look and a laugh, the euphoric feeling of the high starting to take over them.

“Y-you wanna do an-another one r-real quick before it takes over?”

“Bring it.”


End file.
